


All Artists Are Born Lovers

by alostautumn2k16, exolimelight



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: EXOLimelight2017, Famous!AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alostautumn2k16/pseuds/alostautumn2k16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/exolimelight/pseuds/exolimelight
Summary: Kyungsoo's a reclusive and renowned fashion designer. Chanyeol is his favourite customer.





	All Artists Are Born Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt#: 57  
> Pairing: Chanyeol/D.O.  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 13,250  
> Warnings (if any): Swearing

* * *

* * *

  

“ _PARK CHANYEOL, PARK CHANYEOL, PARK CHANYEOL!_ ”

 

The chorus of adoring chants booms through the arena and graciously stalks Chanyeol as he leaps off the stage and speeds through the backstage areas, receiving a series of high-fives and handshakes from staff as he enters his dressing room.

 

“Dude, you were so cool tonight.”

 

His manager tosses him a water bottle and a towel as he collapses onto a couch and pulls his mobile phone from where he’d left it charging. Messages enclosed in colourful bubbles cover his screen from top to bottom and he looks for a single one - from his mother.

 

He smiles fondly at the picture she took of him during the DJ portion of his set. The picture is slightly blurry, but it is followed by a series of smiley selfies from their seat. He quickly types in a thank you and a promise of dinner.

 

Sending the message off with a few hearts, he turns as his manager comes over carrying a large beige box. Chanyeol recognises it immediately and pauses, open-mouthed with excitement. The box is simple and uninteresting on the outside. It is marked with a single word in a straight black font pinned right at the centre:

 

_EX’ACT._

 

“Again?” he gapes, large arms reaching out for it, “I didn’t even put in an order.”

 

“Lucky bastard.” His manager coos, as Chanyeol takes the box and opens it excitedly on his lap, like a child opening a Christmas gift, “You sure you don’t know anyone over there? At _EX’ACT?_ You always get something from them, I swear.”

 

Chanyeol scoffs, grinning broadly as he pulls out the cap and the glasses. He admires them carefully, before trying them on. “Nobody.” He pushes the frame up his nose, striking a pose at the mirror across him, “They don’t even request a public appearance. By now, they should be offering me contracts right?”

 

It must have been the third - or fourth time Chanyeol has received a gift from them. It was always whenever he happened to be in town - and it was always a surprise, with no strings visibly attached.

 

“Right. Not that it’s your style, Yeol. EX’ACT. It’s _couture_ , right?” His manager smirks, shaking his head teasingly, “Outside of concerts, you look fucking _broke_.”

 

“Nice one.” Chanyeol retorts, before pulling the box over and smoothing a hand over the colourful tissue paper that encased the objects. Within the paper, he spies initials and realises that they were letters he had seen on previous packages.

 

He holds it up to the light and smiles with interest. “D.O.” He looks at his manager, brow cocked upwards, “This must be the designer. I _have_ to thank them personally.”

 

Chanyeol flashes an eager smile, thinking immediately of the type of person that must be designing for him: someone _chic_ \-- instagram famous -- tall -- wears bright yellow jumpsuits -- _okay_ , maybe his fashion sense isn’t apt enough to consider what chic actually means, but his heart flutters at the idea that someone out there is designing things for him. Specifically.

 

Especially.

 

“After a shower, and some sleep. Yeah?” His manager suggests, as he leans affectionately on Chanyeol’s shoulders, scrolling through his phone.

 

The musician rests his head against the older man’s arm as he nods.

 

“The reviews are in for your concert, PCY.” His manager hums, pausing for tension, before tossing Chanyeol’s dark hair lovingly and reading out the most upvoted comment of the message board - “My Mum loves PCY. My Grandma loves PCY. My girlfriend loves PCY. I also love PCY. _What should I do?_ ”

 

 

 

\--

 

 

‘ _EX’ACT is honoured and wins 3 awards at the annual STYLE AWARDS GALA. There was notable interest in the NEWCOMER DESIGNER award which was awarded to DO KYUNGSOO. The 24-year-old is no stranger to the heights of the fashion world, as the grandson of EX’ACT’s fashion house founder. During the past year, he has been making a name for himself with his classic and chic approach to runway looks under the sublabel ‘EX’ACT x D.O.’. The label has been commended by editors worldwide with many of his designs gracing the pages of global publications such as VOGUE and L’OFFICIEL. Known for rarely making public appearances, D.O. attended the ceremony with his grandfather and received the award with a speech mentioning his gratitude for his family’s support and his future ambitions for EX’ACT…._ ’

 

 

 

 

Running a delicate finger over the image on his phone screen, Kyungsoo smiles.

 

The picture on his screen was taken during the Style Awards Gala. It features his mother and his grandfather, with him in the middle, shyly presenting his award at the flashing cameras. At the bottom the caption sits: _A Family Affair: Three generations of fashion royalty represented by the EX’ACT fashion house_.

 

Surprisingly, he looks _good_ and normal - and he is glad because he fretted so much over it. Public appearances were not his forte. He avoids them as much as possible - to the point that his own mother attends and hosts his showcases and runways whilst he live-streams them safely from his office. The public is divided in opinion about his evasion of the external world: whilst others admire his commitment to privacy, some have been vocal in their belief that it was a tight-lipped form of arrogance and media play.

 

It was definitely not the latter. The awards show alone highlighted Kyungsoo’s pure unease towards public gatherings.

 

He internally panicked over everything: the menu, the invitees at their table, the transport, the date and time - but especially his outfit. He is rarely found in anything that exposes _skin_. In fact, prior to the awards show, the photographs that appeared top on the search when typing ‘D.O. KYUNGSOO’ on a search bar consisted of photographs whereby he is at an airport and he is clothed head-to-toe in black with a _turtleneck that seemed to stretch all the way to his hairline_ , as one journalist commented.

 

This was the first time, in many years, that he would show his whole _face_. And according to his secretary, he was received rather well by the media and the public. In fact, there were even jokey suggestions of opening a fancafe for him - with many admiring both his good looks and bulky inheritance.

Unchanged by the experience, Kyungsoo remained perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life running away from the glare of the public spotlight. But it was nice to know that even a little appearance from time to time won’t be the death of him.

 

“Uh, Kyungsoo?”

 

Byun Baekhyun, his secretary, enters the room - flustered.

 

He looks up from his phone and blinks. “Hm?”

 

“We have - uh - a situation?” Baekhyun inhales sharply, the words coming out slightly pitchy, “You have a _guest_.”

 

It is exactly twenty past nine in the morning. “I don’t have an appointment.” Kyungsoo deadpans.

 

“Yes,” Baekhyun echoes, “This one is a walk-in. It’s -- uh. Park Chanyeol. The... musician, Park Chanyeol.” His voice edges into a wince, “ _The_ Park Chanyeol.”

 

At the name (and its various repetitions), all color drains from Kyungsoo’s face.

 

“Here?” he wheezes, “Park Chanyeol, _here_?”

 

“Outside. He says he wanted a quick word with you,” Baekhyun winces, an awkward hand flopping towards the door, as his feet dances - “What should I say? You’re out to brunch? _Yes_. That’s what I’ll say.”

 

He turns away. Kyungsoo interrupts him and stumbles upright to his feet –

 

“Wait.”

 

There is something about Kyungsoo’s expression - something foreign that concerns Baekhyun as he watches the designer consciously arrange his hair in front of the single mirror that Kyungsoo keeps in his work room slash office. “I’ll - I’ll see him.” Kyungsoo affirms, taking his white fabric mask and placing it over his mouth.

 

“You’re sure? I can send him away--”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo mumbles, searching for his gloves, and pulling them on, “He’s probably just here to say thank you. It would be rude not to accept it in person when he came all this way.”

 

Baekhyun wants to point out that EX’ACT HQ’s position in the middle of the city probably meant that the musician didn’t have to travel _that_ far. However, he was definitely not going to get in the way of his boss actually accepting a social invitation for once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The designer’s attempt at bravery fails spectacularly. He tells himself that he will be _calm_ and absolutely together, in the presence of who could only be described as his favourite (secret) customer but he finds out quickly that he is anything but.

 

In person, Park Chanyeol of _PCY_ (an award-winning musician and the provider of the primary content comprising Kyungsoo’s music library) is nothing less than overwhelming. His proportions are tall, lean and broad - more built than he had predicted and infinitely more handsome than previously _fantasised_. The singer’s eyes brighten up so much at the sight of Kyungsoo walking through the door that the designer immediately thinks of a type of fabric that could replicate such a shimmer: something metallic and shiny.

 

Blushing, he tells himself to _get his shit together_ \- but Chanyeol only has to speak with the infamously deep voice he had heard sing tenderly many times through his earphones (“Good morning!”) and it immediately becomes too burdensome.

 

Baekhyun has a radar for these things and catches the panicked signal immediately.

 

“Ah, yes. Thank you for your visit, Mr Park.” He breaks the silence with a practiced smile as he beckons for the basket which Chanyeol is holding, “Is that for--?”

 

“Yes,” Chanyeol beams, unable to keep his eyes off the small fashion director with the large eyes, concealed behind a dark thick fringe, “Hi, Mr D.O? I’m Park Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol approaches him and offers the basket directly.

 

“I wanted to thank you for all the clothes.”

 

Kyungsoo takes it with a hesitant hand, and their gazes meet properly for the first time.

 

Almost instantly, his brain retreats into its usual cycle of formalities whenever he meets anyone new. The designer assesses the other’s dimensions with pointed accuracy: face shape, skin type, precise skin color, head circumference, wrist circumference, waist, height, - all close estimations performed as if the very numbers are running around him, shouting out the measurements in series.

 

Conscious of his actions, he pulls down his mask slightly and speaks with a soft voice,

 

“You are welcome.” He blinks up at him, eyes in a slight glare, “Thank you for this basket and for visiting our premises. If you’ll excuse us.”

 

He turns away to return to his workroom.

 

“Wait,” Chanyeol interrupts and reaches towards him.

 

Baekhyun nearly _chokes_. Fortunately, Chanyeol doesn’t reach far enough to touch him, otherwise the secretary wasn’t sure how they would be able to avoid a full scale event.

 

Kyungsoo is visibly shaky as he stops mid-step and pivots around to face the musician,

 

“I didn’t just come here to say thank you.” Chanyeol affirms, taking a clear step back to reassure Baekhyun, “I wanted to order a few pieces actually. A personal order, if possible.”

 

The response he gets from his request isn’t what he expects. The designer shows such a dumbfounded expression to the offer that it was as if he was hearing the words for the very first time. For Kyungsoo, it was a little like that. As a young designer, his experience with commissions was restricted. Of course, he was flipping out for reasons that were entirely distinct from that fact alone.

 

“All of those types of queries are handled by our creative administrative team, Mr Park.” Baekhyun says stiffly, conscious of how Kyungsoo is looking increasingly nauseous, “We can ask them to get in touch with you and arrange some--”

 

“What do you say?” Chanyeol presses Kyungsoo, the brightness in his eyes spreading to the warm curve of his lips.

 

Kyungsoo remains frozen for a moment before managing a croaked –

 

“My team will get in touch with yours.”

 

Before his exit is disrupted again, the designer takes his leave and disappears through the archway leading to the work room. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are left to smile awkwardly at each other before Baekhyun fakes a work-call and bids the artist a polite farewell.

 

 

 

 

Once returned to the safety and warmth of the workroom, Kyungsoo peels back his mask and takes a few heavy breaths. _Did that really just happen?_ \- Did Park Chanyeol, of PCY, really visit him at the fashion house?

 

His head balloons with thoughts and sensations - particularly of Chanyeol’s soothing low tones and his choice of perfume.

 

He looked so handsome today. He wondered if he looked that handsome _every day_. Well, he probably did. He was Park Chanyeol after all.

 

 _The Park Chanyeol_. Bold. Underline. Underlined thrice.

 

Baekhyun runs to him, water in glass all ready. “Kyungsoo, are you okay?” he pleads, “Talk to me. Drink. Breathe.”

 

The reclusive designer does as he’s told and takes a few sips of water. He breathes deeply a few times - before he regains his wits.

 

“Baekhyun,” he says simply after a moment, “I think I want to draw.”

 

The secretary nods and retrieves the sketchbook obediently. Kyungsoo takes the item and walks purposefully to his desk. Baekhyun watches as Kyungsoo, with hypnotic grace, opens the book and begins to sketch. It was a lifelong habit of the young designer – with his sketchbook tending to make slight appearances during particularly creative or stressful periods.

 

This was definitely both.

 

Curious, Baekhyun approaches the desk and peeks at the sketch after a few minutes. He blinks, a bemused smile on his lips as he recognises it as the musician. There was no doubting it with the sketch consisting of the man’s dimensions, and the careful and meticulous way that the designer addresses the paper.

 

“Do we have any free time tomorrow?” Kyungsoo asks innocently.

 

“You have availability before your lunch with your mother.”

 

“Book him in for a fitting.” Kyungsoo instructs, before adding a firmer - “Not officially.”

 

Baekhyun nods and walks away to leave the room, but does manage to catch the designer humming PCY’s recent number one hit before he shuts the door.

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

The next day, Chanyeol attends the meeting, twitchy with enthusiasm. His manager doesn’t stop teasing him about it as they sit together in the car on the way there. “Seriously. This guy doesn’t take pictures. Someone said… here. _Looks like DO Kyungsoo has an allergy to people. Bit ironic considering he makes clothes for them, huh?_ ”

 

Chanyeol shrugs, “He seemed fine to me, yesterday.” Admittedly, a little _shy_ but he already sensed that after googling him. In the musician’s eyes, there is nothing wrong with a tad bit of shyness; if anything, it’s _cute_ on a man.

 

And this man was cute - like really _cute_. Unexplainably cute. The musician basically left the fashion house yesterday a pathetic smiley puddle, endeared to the point that he wasn’t even sure what about the guy had spun him into such a state.

 

Chanyeol likened it to the first time he saw penguins in a zoo. He spent the rest of the school visit sat by their enclosure, peering, staring, and thought about them non-stop afterwards.

 

“I mean, it’s obvious right?” His manager pipes in, elbowing him slightly, “He’s a fan. Ask him if he’s been to one of your concerts.”

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, but inside, he can’t help but wonder. He had fanboys - probably more than many other musicians like him - but EX’ACT would be the last place he would look.

 

Yet somehow, the image clicks well. Reclusive and cute fashion designer; _great_ taste in music.

 

Just his type.

 

The musician resists slapping his own forehead, uncertain how he suddenly became so unbearably soppy. Perhaps he really should take this as a sign that there was a point in life when a handsome talented man can be single for _too_ long.

 

“Oh, he’s handsome isn’t he?” His manager chirps again, waving the phone screen at his eyes, which holds the image of the designer at the awards show.

 

“He is?” Innocently, Chanyeol arches a brow, peering at the picture for only a moment - knowing very well that he had no need to look for long, considering how he’d googled the crap out of the fashion designer on the drive home the day before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the fashion house itself, Chanyeol is kept waiting for a long time for his fitting. He hums, bored, fingers drumming on the sofa arm, having tried all the different coloured sweets from the open jar across him.

 

When Kyungsoo appears, he is as modestly attired as before. He continues to wear a mask indoors, albeit a different color to the one the previous day, and he is dressed in black from top-to-toe. Chanyeol also notices that he has the strange habit of wearing gloves indoors.

 

It was a little odd; but considering he was dealing with someone who dabbles in the fashion industry, he concludes that it might be a trend he simply wasn’t aware of.

 

“Thank you for coming, Mr Park Chanyeo--”

 

“Chanyeol is fine.” He waves it off with an awkward smile, “and thanks for inviting me. I’m really excited to get started. Are we going to go in--”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “No.” He states, “The fitting will be done by an apprentice. I won’t be working with you today - or at all. We will communicate remotely. It is how I work.”

 

“Oh,” Disappointment marks the musician’s face. He pauses, chewing his bottom lip in thought before asking, “Well, you can change that, right?”

 

Kyungsoo is left dumbfounded again and before he can formulate some half-assed response - the door to the waiting room opens and a woman enters. She is dressed in a beautiful lilac ensemble – an outfit inspired by the dress that the Queen of England wore in her most recent public appearance.

 

Chanyeol is starstruck - not only by her obvious beauty, but also the fact that Mrs Do was in fact a very famous actress in the past. The peak of her career was before his own time, but according to the Google search he conducted the night before, she had been a presence in the entertainment industry since birth.

 

She completely disregards their guest and beelines towards her son,

 

“Kyungsoo. I’m so sorry for being early, but I just couldn’t wait to see you after my flight -- oh,” She turns around, large eyes finally registering the musician, “You’re at a meeting? I didn’t know! Wait -- I know you.” A smile spreads across her face - beautiful, perfect, and prompts the musician to blush as he bows his head politely.

 

Kyungsoo pales in horror, thrown into an immediate mental meltdown.

 

“You’re… you’re a musician? Park Chanyeol. I saw you with MC Heejun on his show. He is a close friend of mine. You’re on tour, hm?” She basically giggles, as Chanyeol responds to her mumbles with a few polite nods, “Oh, yes I do know -- oh, _oh!_ Kyungsoo!” She gasps then, turning towards her son who shakes his head immediately as she bats him with a playful arm,

 

“He’s _such_ a big fan of y---”

 

“Mother, enough.” Kyungsoo scowls at her, “Please, Chanyeol and I have business. Can you return at the intended time? Lunchtime?”

 

“Oh, fine.” She grins, “I’ll come back then, shall I? It was a pleasure, Chanyeol.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apologetic for the _chaos_ that was his mother, Kyungsoo resigns to the offer and allows Chanyeol to enter his studio. The fitting would be short - he could cope with it right?

 

Inside, the place is gorgeous – all plush pillows and cream wallpaper, centered on a giant shiny oak desk at the far end of the room. The room captivates Chanyeol’s attention fully. He can’t place a finger on what exactly he liked most about it. He supposes that he has never been inside a fashion house before - especially not in a place as intimate as the creative director’s main workroom. Plus, he’s notorious for being easily pleased with new things.

 

The display that captures him most are the sketches that hang from end to end of the room along a clothing line. The content differs between each square of paper - from colored sketches of dresses, to a drawing of a single hand with presumably a design of a ring. Chanyeol walks through the wave of paper, ducking his head as he avoids wrecking the display with his ungodly height –

 

“I’m sorry about her.” Kyungsoo mumbles, as he texts Baekhyun to ensure that his mother is kept far, far away from the meeting. He then retrieves a tape measure from a drawer. Glancing up to observe his guest as he slowly wanders around, open-mouthed, the young designer contemplates whether he should keep his mask and gloves on. After a moment’s consideration, he makes the wise decision of keeping himself exactly as he was.

 

The safer he felt, the more _endurable_ this would be. Exhaling deeply, he nods his head, convinced that he could live through this with his heart rate and blood pressure feeling normal.

 

Returning to the musician, Kyungsoo observes him as he runs long fingers over the worktop table, closely peering at the line of sketches he had been working on to storyboard for the autumn collection he was busy organising –

 

“You’re really talented,” Chanyeol grins, pivoting on the spot to meet his gaze, “I can’t draw at all.”

 

Kyungsoo blushes immediately (heart rate and blood pressure; _abnormal_ ) and gulps, as he nods his head.

 

“It’s a requirement of my trade.” He answers timidly, “Musicians can probably survive with no drawing ability.”

 

“I am living proof of that.” Chanyeol responds, gaze then addressing the tape in Kyungsoo’s hand.

 

He immediately stands up and gestures towards his shirt.

 

“Do I have to do… anything?” In a slightly lower voice, “Like, be _shirtless_ or--”

 

(Heart rate and blood pressure? _Fucked_.)

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head violently. “No, no. Please keep your clothes on. We will do the fitting… fully clothed.” The fact that such words would even reach Kyungsoo’s lips today baffles him and he wonders then whether Baekhyun should be present - in case it all becomes _overwhelming_.

 

There is certainly an increasing sense that it will be, for even the _suggestion_ that Park Chanyeol, of PCY, would be at his worktop shirtless is making him feel queasy.

 

Seemingly unperturbed, the musician nods and smiles, relaxing as he leans against the worktop. The height difference between them is marked, but Chanyeol is accustomed to the adjustments. He communicates with the designer wordlessly for a few moments, as he gestures to where exactly they should begin –

 

Chest and waist, apparently.

 

“So, from artist to artist.” Chanyeol begins awkwardly, keen to get some line of conversation between them started as the designer steps forward, “I want to know how you get my style so on point. You really do. It’s uncanny.”

 

“Perhaps you’re just easy to please.” Kyungsoo mumbles, as he wraps the tape measure around the other’s body - somehow managing to complete this intimate task with as much distance as physically possible between them.

 

After all, the last thing he needs in his life was to find out whether Park Chanyeol actually has the six-pack abs that had sent tabloids reeling after photos from last year’s Style Awards after-pool-party were leaked...

 

( _fuuuuuuuck!_ ).

 

“I’m really not.” Chanyeol laughs, lying effortlessly, “I’m really picky.” He tilts his head questioningly at the other, “Can I ask, why me? Does everyone get free stuff from EX’ACT-- or?”

 

“No.” Kyungsoo answers, deadpan, despite his head being filled with the image of the mysterious, unidentified, man by the pool with the _godly_ abdomen--

 

“So,” The curiosity _scalds_ the musician’s tone, “Why me then?”

 

Kyungsoo’s preference to avoid the question accelerates the speed of his work. Before long, he finds that he’s noted the measurements required for all types of tailoring - with only the single, most dreaded one left. It was, for him, undoubtedly the most intimate - and one that Kyungsoo knew would drag his heart rate and blood pressure up, kicking and screaming.

 

For someone who didn’t have a fear and distaste for physical contact, this would have been fine. But for Kyungsoo, taking someone’s head circumference - especially that of arguably, the most _handsome_ man on earth - was the most… sensuous experience he would’ve had all year.

 

Scolding himself, Kyungsoo wraps the tape around the musician’s head - feeling achingly close to him, and the physical observations that he had only just managed to sleep through the night before. The smell of the cologne was back; more defined - as well as the shampoo choice.

 

Kyungsoo’s gloved fingers accidentally brushes against Chanyeol’s hair. A list of observations is immediately summoned: the musician’s hair is soft, light –

 

His heart rate picks up fiercely.

 

This time, Chanyeol is not so oblivious to Kyungsoo’s strange behavior. The rest of the fitting seemed to be at super speed - but this region, is comparably leisurely. He peers up at the designer as he works. The musician notices how Kyungsoo’s eyes become scrunched up tight each time he inches a little closer to his face—as if doing his best to dodge any up-close contact.

 

It was unspeakably _cute_.

 

“Can I ask again?” Chanyeol presses in a whisper, “Why me?”

 

“Stay still.” Kyungsoo dismisses, eye twitching.

 

He attempts the measurement eventually and pauses, meeting the other’s eyes. By then, the designer’s heartbeat is so loud he can barely distinguish between centimetres. He quickly accepts defeat as the other’s eyes soften at the gesture.

 

“ _Keep Me Forever_.” Kyungsoo reveals with a sigh, “Keep Me Forever is the reason.”

 

“Keep Me Forever - as in my debut song?” Chanyeol questions, jaw falling open.

 

“I heard that song. It got me through my parents’ divorce.” The designer murmurs, voice softening as he recalls it with obvious embarrassment, “I became a fan after that. I liked your style of music. And I liked that you change your concepts a lot.”

 

The musician pauses, head tilted, as he turns to Kyungsoo who is busy counting ceiling tiles.

 

“So, you really _are_ a fan? And that’s why you make me clothes?” He says, clearly in awe, as he adds an excited, “From debut as well? Woah. That’s awesome.”

 

Kyungsoo takes a breath. The reception was much kinder than he’d predicted. He was afraid that the musician would simply laugh at him - but he did laugh, in a kind, understanding, and non-conniving way.

 

He decides to take a step back closer to him, feeling a nudge more comfortable now that he had admitted to his true place as a PCY fan. Perhaps with this in mind, the musician could be more considerate of his odd actions from time-to-time.

 

“Have you been to one of my concerts?” Chanyeol asks keenly, remembering what his manager said.

 

“No, never.” Kyungsoo shakes his head,“I don’t like concerts. There’s too many people. The quantity and density. It is - _overwhelming_.”

 

To Chanyeol, the words are bizarre. Everything he outlined was everything he personally enjoyed about concerts. The quantity, the density, the solidity of a crowd – was all part of the unique atmosphere which made them the best events to attend in the world.

 

“Eh. You should come.” Chanyeol shrugs, “I’ll put you in the family section. And my concerts are _fun_.”

 

Kyungsoo is not going to deny that he has pictured himself attending a concert (specifically, PCY concerts many times). However, each time he’s pictured himself attending said concert, the image never reaches a pleasant enough degree that would encourage him to go. Instead of focusing on hearing live music, the atmosphere, the bright lights and dancing, Kyungsoo’s brain becomes stuck on the prospect of long queues, chatter, and the _sweat_.

 

At that moment, Baekhyun strolls in, carrying news that his mother had come for her lunch.

 

“Can I come tomorrow?” Chanyeol asks as he retrieves his things. “We probably need to meet up more, right?”

 

The eagerness in his tone surprises all parties. Shyly, Kyungsoo nods before pausing and acknowledging the sincere shake of the head from his secretary.

 

“Oh,” he frowns, dismayed, “I am busy tomorrow.”

 

Preparation for his autumn collection officially begins tomorrow. He almost forgot. Kyungsoo momentarily debates whether he would even have time for this project.

 

But one glance at his customer – and his customer’s perfect _face_ \- completely eradicates such thoughts.

 

“I’m free at night?” Chanyeol blinks, offering an alternative that the designer hasn’t even considered before - “Post office-hours? You can charge me extra.”

 

“I can’t tomorrow night.” Kyungsoo mumbles, recalling a late video call with his European counterparts.

 

“Ah. Maybe the next day then?” presses the musician, unable to dampen the smile off his lips as he glances at the designer, “But I want to see _you_. Not some apprentice.”

 

Although Kyungsoo was certain that Chanyeol meant his words kindly (he did _not_ ), he couldn’t help but feel butterflies, with the sensation of warmth reaching to the very tips of his ears.

 

When Chanyeol leaves, Baekhyun immediately scuttles to Kyungsoo’s side. His tone drips with curiosity as he asks,

 

“So, how was it?”

 

Kyungsoo responds with a theatrically deep exhale, as if he’s been holding a single breath during the entire meeting. He peels off his mask, his gloves and manically fans his flushed face with a frown. He then collapses into his office chair, body sliding downwards as he meets his secretary’s gaze with an expression of inescapable despair.

 

“His hair smells of tropical fruits.” Kyungsoo whines, as his hands squeeze the sides of his head, hoping to drain the sadness he suddenly feels with the musician gone, “I’m in trouble… ”

 

Burying his face into his hands, the designer pauses before stating,

 

“I told him I was a fan.”

 

“Oh?” His secretary grins, “And what did he say?”

 

Kyungsoo recalls the memory clearly and he answers, failing to keep himself from blushing deeply. “He said it was… _awesome_.” He expresses a tiny smile, gaze lowering to the floor as he adds, “He sounded… happy?”

 

The brief snapshot of the musician’s smile in his head broadens his own and before he realises it, Kyungsoo finds himself _laughing_.

 

“He’s really awesome.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Kyungsoo affirms, before shaking his head as his face flushes again, wondering how he could possibly gain enough strength to be alone with his favourite musician again.

 

And yet even such a blinding affirmation isn’t enough to dull the lavish colors, which had slowly began to wrap around his thoughts - painting them brightly, replacing the anxious shadows he had befriended for a long time.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

The next day, Chanyeol receives a message confirming Kyungsoo’s unavailability for the rest of the week. Feeling bold, the musician tries his luck and asks the secretary for the designer’s private number.

 

Clearly, unabashed cheekiness can lead to surprise success as Chanyeol is rewarded with a direct channel to the designer who apparently agrees to this exchange.

 

He sends the first text after his meal with his family, inquiring innocently about when he may be able to visit the fashion house again.

 

To his great convenience, it turned out that the designer had a little time that very evening if he was free. Whether it was time saved from a cancelled meeting or call, Chanyeol didn’t bother to ask. He agreed to the invitation, plainly keen, and only after considered the possibility that the designer may be going out of his way to accommodate him.

 

“What a nice guy,” he finds himself muttering as he pockets his phone and retrieves the keys to his scooter.

 

_Just your type._

 

He scowls and shakes his head, reminding himself that this entire thing is founded on what was, essentially, a business deal. A transaction between designer and client.

 

But that didn’t mean that he has to turn up to meetings looking like garbage.

 

Returning the keys, Chanyeol decides to have a long shower first. Maybe a facial too if he has bonus time. Nobody can resist _aloe_.

 

“Ugh. Why am I such a loser,” he scolds himself, half-whining, as he enters the bathroom, hoping to all the gods above that he won’t act as pathetic in the presence of the short, penguin-like designer later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

Reunited at the fashion house, there was comparably less awkwardness sensed in the room. Both were making a conscious effort to be comfortable and _cool_ \- and it has to be said that to each other, they were succeeding. On the inside however, the designer feels utterly out of his depth whilst the musician, having practically bathed in aloe, is distracted by thoughts of whether he had overdone it.

 

“It’s so quiet here.” Chanyeol retorts, glancing around, fingers fidgeting restlessly on the sofa’s arm where he had settled, “Do you normally work late?”

 

Kyungsoo nods softly as he answers.

 

“I do a lot of work with Europe and New York. So I’m awake all hours.” He awkwardly glances at the door before meeting his guest’s eyes, “My secretary just went out to get us some coffees. We can get started after.”

 

When Baekhyun returns with the drinks, Chanyeol notices immediately that the drinks order he receives is strangely specific and _accurate_. He begins to wonder if he’d ever mentioned it before - or if by some off chance, the designer was such a big fan that it is something he would know off-by-heart.

 

He approaches the topic with the vaguest of questions – muttering something about whether he’d had coffee during his previous visit.

 

Kyungsoo responds in a deceptively cold tone.

 

“I always make sure my secretary is aware of the beverage preferences of customers. I believe he may have contacted your office privately.”

 

 _Bullshit_.

 

Kyungsoo sips his espresso, face _scorching_ , perfectly aware that the musician’s coffee preference is something he remembered reading from an online article. He didn’t even think _twice_ about it - and only realised how pathetic this slip-up was now.

 

“Ah,” Chanyeol raises the plastic cup with a smile, “Well, it’s just how I like it… it even comes from my favourite coffee chain. Your office is really something.”

 

Seeing the musician so satisfied delights Kyungsoo internally. If only he knew how much more trivia he’s managed to store in his brain about him-- favourite biscuits, season, book, travel show, best fansite manager…

 

He outwardly cringes, burying the sentiment with a quick gulp of his coffee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most of the first hour and a half is spent productively with organising Chanyeol’s order. They go through the usual paperwork, deciding on what _exactly_ he wants to order, and the timeline of when things should be finished. Kyungsoo begins to organise the ideas he managed to think up during the night and Chanyeol is content to nod along, fairly nonplussed about the whole thing.

 

In fact, Chanyeol doesn’t get a word in edgeways until well into the meeting.

 

“It all sounds good.” Chanyeol grins, as he stretches long arms in the air, “I trust you’ll do well, Mr. D.O.”

 

“Kyungsoo,” the designer interjects, sheepish, as he raises his gaze to the other, “You can call me Kyungsoo.”

 

Chanyeol blinks. “ _Kyungsoo_ ,” he echoes, pronouncing the syllables attentively as he smiles, “Alright, Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. My fan, Kyungsoo. My designer friend, Kyungsoo…”

 

Kyungsoo’s stomach twists-- no, _flutters_ , and he swiftly glances down at his sketches, hoping to hide the pale glimpse of joy from his expression. He gets a little lost in the process and he finds his way back after noticing that Chanyeol has fallen asleep in his chair. He glances at the time then - _2:45 am_ and blanches.

 

Slowly, Kyungsoo chooses to approach him and sneaks a glance over the couch.

 

Surprisingly, the musician sleeps curled up-- his tall, six foot frame, reduced to a curved ball-like shape. The most endearing part of the image was undoubtedly his large hands -- clasped into tiny fists pressed against the cushion with his cheek resting above them.

 

It was criminal how Chanyeol could remain a visual feast even in this state. Kyungsoo had always denied that he admired the musician at any level beyond artist-to-artist but he definitely couldn’t deny the truth now.

 

Kyungsoo, the self-confessed recluse and love-repellant; had a terrible, _terrible_ crush on the man who had single-handedly made love songs trendy again.

 

And try as he might to stomp it down, the designer knew how much worse his feelings were getting with each tidbit of knowledge he gains about the singer.

 

In fact, if he ever finds out that Chanyeol likes dogs, Kyungsoo was certain that this would truly be the apocalyptic-level end game for him and love. There would be nobody else in the world that could embody what to him, was a truly, perfect man--

 

“Hmmm...”

 

The musician’s eyes open blearily, muting Kyungsoo’s thoughts.

 

“Is my order finished?” Chanyeol mumbles, as he rubs his eyes with a fist.

 

“Not yet,” Kyungsoo answers. Without so much as a warning, Chanyeol lifts an eyelid then directs a smile right at the designer’s direction, rendering the other momentarily _breathless_.

 

Overwhelmed, the designer calls it a day and makes a promise to return to it tomorrow.

 

“So I can come back tomorrow?”

 

“Sure. Yeah.” Kyungsoo nods, missing his gaze coolly.

 

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” Placing on his jacket, the musician offers the other a happy smile as he approaches the door, “Good night. Kyungsoo.”

 

Returning the smile graciously, Kyungsoo opens it for him with a shy sort of gleam in his eyes that gets the musician’s heart racing -

 

“Good night.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Chanyeol returns the next evening, he ensures that he is more prepared. He brings along his own research on the type of look he is interested in, having consulted with his own stylist, obviously intent on helping the designer in any way possible. His enthusiasm clearly takes the designer by surprise and the meeting is livelier than the previous night’s. This provided the perfect opportunity to divert a little away from his order -- to learn a little more about the designer and his quirks.

 

“So, have you always been into fashion?” Chanyeol quips, sat across the desk whereby Kyungsoo was busy working, “Or was it an all-or-nothing sort of scenario with the family expectation?”

 

Kyungsoo admires a line of red acrylic fabric from his desk as he glances up.

 

“Both.” He admits.

 

With another short sequence of disguised questions, Chanyeol was able to gain the other’s origin story.

 

Kyungsoo spoke of how his first taste of fashion came after attending his grandfather’s fashion show with his older cousins. He became thoroughly obsessed with the world and spent most of his time at the expensive boarding school of his formative years with his nose in classic fashion literature and high fashion magazines.

 

“I used to always change up my school uniform.” Kyungsoo narrates, holding up a square of fabric with delicate fingers, recalling the memory fondly, “In my final year, I snuck in a sewing machine and nearly got expelled.”

 

“Rebel.” Chanyeol remarks, a smirk ghosting over his lips, “But it’s nice to have found your calling so young.”

 

The musician grows quiet, content to observe the other, thoroughly enchanted by the world which he was growing more and more knowledgeable of. He looks around, noticing the strange orderly mess of the room. To a layman, everything about it was _cool_. Only now perhaps did he understand how privileged he was to have an artist like D.O-- no, _Kyungsoo_ in his life.

 

True artists will always appreciate art in any of its many forms.

 

“So, is there anything here you’ve yet to have-- uh, anyone try on?” Chanyeol muses, as he glances at the various mannequins around them with patches of fabric pinned to different areas of their bodies.

 

Kyungsoo looks up with narrowed eyes.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I want to see more,” explains Chanyeol with a flushed smile, waving a hand to the racks of things across the room, “More of what you do here.”

 

“I can’t just let you try things on… ” murmurs the designer, lowering his gaze, searching frantically for a solution before brightening up as he adds, “But uh, I have some half-completed pieces that haven’t debuted yet. You could… let me know what you think?”

 

The excitement in Chanyeol’s response is touching.

 

“Do it!” he grins.

 

“R--Really?” Kyungsoo begins uneasily, “Some of them are really... only just put together...but I do need opinions...”

 

“Even better.” The other responds, nodding his head enthusiastically, hoping to ease the other’s concerns by stating, “Although if you made it, I’m sure I’ll like it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kyungsoo decides to fit him into his favourite piece of his upcoming collection. The designer had opted to introduce him to a half-finished set -- one that incorporated his early concept of presenting an autumn collection inspired by _royalty_. It was an idea that was yet to receive the green light from EX’ACT because the pieces were greatly distinct from the ready-to-wear sets that his family had dominated the fashion landscape with.

 

“This is going into the realms of haute couture. The stitching was really complex. I was inspired by the technicians at French _ateliers_. A dressmaker’s workshop.” Kyungsoo explains quietly as Chanyeol hops off the podium where he was being tailored.

 

Chanyeol’s red regal jacket is heavy. It occurs to him then that the spattering of gorgeous jewels that adorned its collar, hem, and body must be real.

 

When he emerges, he hears Kyungsoo physically exhale and he can’t help but laugh.

 

“That bad huh?” he comments, playfully spinning on the spot.

 

“No… not at all.” Kyungsoo murmurs, wide-eyed at just how _good_ the other man looked.

 

The designer purposely shies away from observing the garment itself too closely. His insecurity about his work was notorious amongst the rest of the fashion house and it crept up here, endangering the mood which had been light and friendly so far.

 

“I like it a lot. And why not, huh?” Chanyeol says encouragingly, sensing the other’s hesitation, “I don’t know much about… fashion and couture. But I can see the pricks on your fingers, Kyungsoo. You’re an artist and you work hard to make beautiful things.”

 

Chanyeol smiles at him and it is so meaningful that Kyungsoo feels his heart twist in response.

 

“How’s my runway walk?”

 

The musician sashays down the workroom, attempting his best at the walks he had seen on runway videos. “Oh wait,” he stutters to a halt, “I’m supposed to be a _prince_ , right?” He quickly recuperates, adjusting his stance with shocking pace as he straightens his form and marches, tossing light elegant waves to an invisible crowd.

 

Kyungsoo laughs loudly.

 

Keen to hear the sound again, Chanyeol theatrically attempts a bow. He was certain that it would elicit the required effect – but all such hope dissipates as his carelessness rips a part of the outfit’s shoulder.

 

The next few moments are spent stressing over the sewing machine as Kyungsoo fixes it. He watches the delicate motions of the designer’s fingers as the machine hums beneath him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol mumbles frantically, genuinely sweating, “ _Fuck_. I’m _so_ sorry...”

 

Accustomed to fashion disasters of various sorts, Kyungsoo shakes his head calmly.

 

“It’s fixable. Don’t worry.”

 

“Ah, I should make it up to you, really…”

 

“No, it’s fine,” murmurs the designer, as he supplies, “It suited you. I was grateful you tried it on.”

 

It was a compliment right? Chanyeol is almost too flustered to consider the sentiment behind the words. He decides to lean on his usual arsenal to cope with the stress of it all: _humor_.

 

“Ah,” he begins, before adding a more playful, “at least I was handsome, huh?”

 

It was offered coyly-- as a joke (although it occurs to him later that he tends to apply humor as a form of _flirtation_ too). To his surprise, and frankly Kyungsoo’s, the designer responds with a nod, eyes still running over the stammering machine.

 

“You are.”

 

The words are whispered but Chanyeol catches it. Surprised, he blinks –feeling strangely shy as Kyungsoo nearly chokes on a breath, quickly panicking over his momentary thoughtless slip.

 

“Aw,” Chanyeol begins, noticing the wide-eyed, mortified expression in Kyungsoo’s eyes, as he replies, “You’re just saying that because you’re my fan.” He blinks, smiling, “Right?”

 

“Yes,” His companion is only too happy to accept the offer of rescue - being already half-drowned in his own embarrassment, “Yes, that’s why.”

 

The musician nods, still smiling, as he looks up and tilts his head at Kyungsoo who has decided to stop using the sewing machine in case he loses his fingers during his next blank spell –

 

“Well, I’m your fan too,” Chanyeol jokes—although how much of it is a joke is up for debate—“and... you’re one to talk. Look at you.”

 

This was getting worse and worse.

 

At Chanyeol’s playful words, Kyungsoo’s shaky hands almost knock into the sewing machine, as he replies with a pitchy,

 

“ _Ah_. Is that so? Thank you. Ah.”

 

The designer retreats, turning away, choosing to inflate his lungs with the deepest possible breath. Staring deeply at the other’s back, Chanyeol silently and painfully gasps, resisting the urge to bite his own fist, unable to bear how _cute_ Kyungsoo was being. Surely, he was doing all of this on _purpose_.

 

Like some manipulative-man penguin -- with the sexy talking voice of an operatic bass.

 

“Can we continue this another night? It’s getting late.” Kyungsoo turns back to him, scratching his hair thoughtfully.

 

Chanyeol sits up, clearing his throat. “Course. Just, let me know about the jacket, yeah?”

 

Kyungsoo hums in response, guiding him out of the workroom with private urgency. The musician halts at the doorway suddenly, almost causing the designer to walk into him.

 

“Uh, Kyungsoo. Can I ask you something?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Um.”

 

_Did we have a moment there? Do you ever eat? Do you want food sometime... and me? Wait...._

 

Chanyeol blinks, before chuckling and batting the opportunity away, “Never mind. Forget it. Thanks again. Have a good night.”

 

“No, what is it?” A frown crosses Kyungsoo’s features, deciding that more confusion was best avoided considering his head was already spinning, “ _What_?”

 

“Nothing, honestly.” Chanyeol smiles, albeit shakily as he shrugs his shoulders, “Can I come again soon?”

 

A little reassured, the designer nods, “Sure,” he even manages a brave smile as he adds, “Any time.”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

Their meetings continue -- each one a little longer than the last and thankfully, a little less awkward. Chanyeol is committed and enthusiastic and he fits the meetings in between practices and sessions at the recording studio. Kyungsoo does the same, using their late evenings as a way to recover from the overwhelming stress of his autumn collection preparations.

 

The pair found an undeniable kinship with each other: an intriguing sense of harmony between their interests and differences that made time go a little faster; hearts beat a little quicker; and went beyond the fluttery attraction they may have blamed for their initial commitment.

 

At some point, both came to a mutual acceptance that their meetings couldn’t be disguised as fashion related anymore. Instead, they begin to _hang out_ as friends do – polite bows now exchanged for hot cups of coffee and Chanyeol choosing to turn up in tracksuits and trainers with a minimal sense of judgment.

 

In fact, at some point even Kyungsoo the designer begins to loosen up. The night he chooses not to wear a face mask at any point during their meeting strikes the musician _hard_. It had become so normal between them that its obvious absence bowled him over. He shouldn’t mention it-- and he damn well knew that, but of course it still slips out.

 

Because he was Park Chanyeol; a damn _fool_.

 

He poses the question during a quiet period, whereby Kyungsoo is scanning something interesting on his tablet and Chanyeol is foolishly left to debate his own internal dilemmas.

 

“You… like to wrap up don’t you?” Chanyeol begins, brow furrowing as he questions the wording and Kyungsoo lifts his gaze from the screen, “I meant… you rarely go out without a…” He gestures towards a face mask, and then runs his hands over his wrists to imitate the fabric gloves which Kyungsoo had initially done without a few nights ago, “Is it a _germ_ thing? Or… uh…”

 

Seeing Kyungsoo visibly swallow at the inquiry causes the musician to grow sheepish as he quickly apologises -- waving his hands to acknowledge his own missteps. He averts his gaze away from the man across him, flushing, arms crossing defensively.

 

It was as he was thinking up of a completely different subject of conversation that Kyungsoo does the surprising thing and answers him straight on.

 

“I’m sure you’ve read about it before. But my parents went through a divorce… I was very young at the time and it was extremely well-documented by the media…”

 

Kyungsoo blinks thoughtfully as he recalls the story with unmoving clarity: the blinding white of camera lights, the merciless scramble of the media outlets as they harassed his family home. “There was even a point. It was-- quite famous at the time. When my mother was picking me up from the car, on our way to the court-room, and a photographer came out of nowhere and--”

 

“Pushed into her,” Chanyeol looks across keenly, “Yeah, I remember. She got pushed and you were dropped.”

 

The photograph of the shocked little boy on the floor, arms still raised to his mother, made national news - which was followed by broad condemnation of the media’s behaviour by the general public.

 

“I fell, yeah.” The designer feels a chill trail the back of his neck as he glances coldly at his tablet screen, “My mother hid me after that. It took a long time for me to learn how to cope with the world… _outside_ and I still get anxious at the flash of a camera. Or a handshake even, sometimes. But,” He lifts the tablet with a genuine smile, “I was born with a gift and it is important to share whatever you have with the world around you. No matter how great or small.”

 

“The philosophy of all artists,” Chanyeol comments, watching the designer closely, recognising then how much he wanted to _embrace_ him. How nicely he’d fit into my arms, he thought with not a single ounce of selfishness. “Well, I think you’re great for doing that.” He nods firmly, “For choosing not to sit around, doing nothing in your... palace with your _Versace_ pillows and living your life that way.”

 

A laugh slips from Kyungsoo’s lips. “I couldn’t do that,” he murmured, before adding, “To be honest, I didn’t even notice that I wasn’t wearing a mask today. I saw your text and I just waited.”

 

“Oh?” Excitement perks up Chanyeol’s voice before he clears his throat and relaxes into the sofa behind him, “Well, I’m glad. I want you to be comfortable around me.”

 

He stretches his arms and legs wide with a content sigh. The display is ridiculous and a little shameless. Kyungsoo nods with a faint smile, now accustomed to the musician’s style of humor.

 

“Okay.”

 

“No, really. I’m _so_ comfortable with you. I want us to...” Chanyeol pauses, thoughtful, as he meshes his fingers together in a gesture that conveyed more _confusion_ than elegance, “To... _vibe_. So, if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable with me. Then, let me know.”

 

Kyungsoo would certainly like to provide him an answer. But considering his answer was something along the lines of, ‘maybe if you were less... you? Less _hot_? Less talented? Less _perfect_?’, he opts to keep his mouth shut and simply responds with silence.

 

“Really?” Chanyeol presses after a minute, disappointed, as he glances around the room, “There isn’t anything? Well.” His gaze quickly latches onto a new aspect of the room— the pile of delivery boxes in the corner. “How about I help you with chores or something? Help you tidy up?”

 

Never one to deny the opportunity to clean up, Kyungsoo invites Chanyeol to help him with stacking his newly ordered materials. It certainly wasn’t the type of activity that he could imagine would delight everyone awake in the early hours of morning—but Chanyeol never stops smiling and chatting, and the designer is left to wonder whether the sun ever truly sets for anyone in his company.

 

Whilst their conversation topic may have started on something as benign as friendship, it soon wound up in various directions— leading them onto a particularly memorable anecdote of Chanyeol helping his close friend rescue his mother’s day surprise. It was particularly interesting because it was about _cooking_ \-- a hobby that they apparently mutually enjoyed.

 

“...so anyway, I went back to my friend and I was like, this is _terrible_. You can’t serve this to your Mum—“

 

“Because you can’t whisk. You need to mix _then_ whisk.” Kyungsoo interjects, nodding, as he hands the musician the boxes which they were neatly stacking on a shelf that was far higher than Kyungsoo could physically reach without Chanyeol’s assistance.

 

“Exactly. Mix then whisk! So we take it out of the oven and its flat. And he’s freaking out,” A box was shoved in as Chanyeol beckons for another, “Luckily, I’m there because otherwise—“

 

And there, in the momentary scuffle between Kyungsoo reaching for a box, and Chanyeol’s fingers absently seeking for another, their hands inevitably— _touch_.

 

And then it’s still. Chanyeol forgets his anecdote. Kyungsoo’s grip on the box tightens.

 

“Oh,” the musician stutters, as he then plants his hand on the box in Kyungsoo’s other hand, “S-Sorry. I wasn’t looking properly.”

 

To his surprise, the designer addresses it with a mere shake of his head.

 

“It’s okay.” Kyungsoo’s face positively _glows_ , as he hands him the item, “Carry on. What happened next?”

 

Their hands touch twice more. A pair of meaningless accidents that steal a smile from Kyungsoo’s lips when he recalls them afterwards.

 

Meaningless, sure; but for Chanyeol, only _one_ was accidental.

 

The second was... experimental and he sure as hell would’ve held Kyungsoo’s hand longer, had it not been for the designer’s blasted secretary entering the room to quietly remind him that he couldn’t stay for _too_ long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later, when they say goodbye, Chanyeol mentions their next meeting—and Kyungsoo informs him that he is cancelling on their evening plans, due to a dinner with his parents. At some point during his explanation, he mumbles that he is spending his afternoon at the design museum –

 

“Oh?” The musician rests an arm against the doorway, leaning wearily against it, “Don’t think I’ve ever been there. Should I go with you then?”

 

Kyungsoo blinks, clearly caught by surprise as he answers, “Uh, if you want to--”

 

“Cool, I’ll see you then.”

 

The musician pivots on his heel to leave.

 

“But-- we won’t be able to work on your order, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo calls out after him, wide-eyed, “I’m going there for leisure.”

 

“Oh,” Chanyeol turns, pockets his hands and considers it, “Well, I’d still like to come… with you. If that’s okay?”

 

This was strange, Kyungsoo thinks. Even his own secretary _dreads_ their weekly museum visits-- with Baekhyun choosing to stalk his employer around with headphones blaring just to stay awake.

 

“Sure,” Kyungsoo nods once-- twice to make certain, “I’ll send the address over.”

 

“See you then.”

 

Later on, the exact situation is explained to Baekhyun in painstaking detail with this final scene explained with the dialogue uttered in perfect intonation as to provide an accurate depiction of what occurred. His secretary listens, absorbing each detail, nodding along-- sleepy, but somewhat engrossed in all that had been occurring in his employer’s work room these past few weeks.

 

“I did this once you know. I knew this girl was attending this folk song festival and I bought myself a ticket and booked the weekend off. I would’ve rather got punched in the face than go to be honest with you.”

 

“So, why did you go?” Kyungsoo asks keenly.

 

“Because I _liked_ her.” Baekhyun sighs, watching with quiet amusement as Kyungsoo’s expression sinks – half curious, half in despair, “And it’s not just because I wanted her to see that we had things in common. I… _really_ liked her. So I actually wanted to see the types of things she liked and I wanted to see what she was like around those things. People become really beautiful, you know. When they talk about the things they love. The things that keep their heart beating.”

 

A quiet moment passes. Kyungsoo recollects the memory of a few nights ago when Chanyeol had treated him to a short acoustic rendition of _Keep Me Forever_ after bringing his guitar to the workroom. He had insisted on performing – citing that Kyungsoo had yet to have the pleasure of hearing him live.

 

Seeing the musician, guitar at hand, skimming over notes and lyrics in perfect harmony, had been _beautiful_.

 

“Do you think… he likes me?” Kyungsoo blurts out eventually.

 

The question is so awkward that he shudders instantly, waving his hands, urging for Baekhyun to keep quiet.

 

Naturally, his request is ignored. Especially since to the secretary, the answer is obvious enough in the persistence of the musician’s visits and the needy way he looks at the designer like he was... a vintage Burberry handbag.

 

“If you’re not going to ask him yourself, then at least watch his eyes, okay?” Baekhyun comments, deciding to indulge his employer’s denials, “His eyes will give him away tomorrow. Trust your instinct, Kyungsoo.”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

The design museum was one of Kyungsoo’s favourite haunts. Although it is normally quiet at the weekdays, it appears to be populated that particular day. Therefore the designer opts to meet away from the lobby and straight towards the new exhibition he had wanted to see. It was a travelling exhibition from a Dutch designer-- focused on showcasing colours and shadows using sculptures and interior design.

 

Inside the first room, the sight is white from ceiling to floor with the striking focus of the piece centered on the bright red and blue marble sculptures in the middle, shaped into uniform little globes.

 

Chanyeol arrives, dressed head-to-toe in black, fully shielded with a mask and cap. He waves at Kyungsoo from across the room, and even without his lips in full view, there was no doubting the size of his smile at the sight of his companion.

 

“Hey.” Chanyeol greets, dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

 

He approaches Kyungsoo with a hand extended. Surprised, the designer takes it, predicting it to be a handshake, only to stiffen as he felt the man’s long fingers wrap around his and squeeze lightly.

 

“Hey.” Kyungsoo echoes, a warm blush rising to his cheeks as their hands fall to their respective sides.

 

Overwhelmed, his eyes don’t leave the musician’s form, as Chanyeol urges them forward, a spring in his step.

 

“Come on then,” he begins, nudging the designer lightly as he stepped into him, “Let my cultural awakening begin.”

 

 

 

 

 

They wander the exhibition together, with Kyungsoo explaining the origins of the museum, as well as his choice of exhibition. He pays attention to Chanyeol’s eyes as Baekhyun had asked-- and there he makes numerous worthwhile observations. Firstly, his eyes were purely committed to him whenever he spoke -- secondly, they were large -- and thirdly, they were very _pretty_ up close.

 

There were other observations worth mentioning too. The most pressing of which was that it was unspeakably nice being here with someone other than his secretary. Perhaps it was now more than ever that Kyungsoo notices how most people at this time were ambling around in pairs and groups, enjoying both the company and the art. There were also couples— dressed in their couple outfits, hand-in-hand, their attentions more fixated on each other than the art.

 

Admittedly, him and Chanyeol weren’t far off with their twin black ensembles a pleasant reflection of each other’s.

 

Thus, it was acceptable that more than once Kyungsoo finds himself glancing secretly at his tall companion, lost in a cursory fantasy of a tall... _faceless_ handsome boyfriend and secret museum dates.

 

His boyfriend would walk beside him, never dragging his feet, smiling – chatting – saying something monumentally clever—

 

“God, what a beautiful _archway_. You can really... really catch the vibe that the designer was going for. Pale white archway. Contrasting the grey floor tiles...”

 

They were standing in the fifth room of the assembly. Kyungsoo glances upwards at Chanyeol as he speaks. The musician’s face was scrunched up in an expression of deep thought—almost pained— as he casually comments on the archway across them where some people were very clearly queuing.

 

A bemused smile appears on Kyungsoo’s lips.

 

“You know that’s the archway leading to the toilet, right?” The designer questions, before pointing a knowing finger at the signs, which were slightly obscured by the passing figures.

 

The musician pales.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Kyungsoo nods his head, laughing warmly as the taller man gazes down at him and apologizes.

 

He is a little quieter after that. But never once does Kyungsoo observe him drag his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, this must be the shadows part then?”

 

After thirty minutes, they convene at the final stage of the exhibition that was meant to mirror what the world was like without colour. Kyungsoo can’t help but feel saddened by the sudden darkness, as he motions his companion forward, the centre pieces now reduced to faint shapes across his squinted vision.

 

Here, it was comparably busier with most people using it for Instagram-worthy posts. Ironically.

 

Too engrossed in absorbing the exhibition, Kyungsoo fails to notice how Chanyeol disappears from his side – lost and clueless. With most of the crowd now wearing a similar shade of black, the musician had simply decided to follow the nearest small-ish person beside him. And after commenting something clever about the way that the light hits a certain angle and evokes emotion (a _one-liner_ he’d rigorously practiced), Chanyeol had found himself face-to-face with a small, wide-eyed young lady who recognised him from the mere timbre of his voice—

 

“ _Park Chanyeol!_ ” she screams, startling the room into quiet, “ _Is it really you, PCY?_ ”

 

The crowd explodes into chaos as people chatter and turn their heads, going into complete meltdown as they recognise the musician immediately by his height. Mobbed by people in the dark, Chanyeol panics, attempting to keep control but unable to think of a solution—

 

“Please, hello--ah-- yes, yes a _picture_ \-- maybe out--side, _yes_?”

 

He wonders if by his fans’ love was how he was destined to die.

 

Squeezed out of further protests, the musician almost accepts defeat when the whole room suddenly brightens up by an instant implosion of white light. Everyone winces, immediately shielding their eyes, and it is there that Chanyeol feels fingers wrap tightly around his as he is urged and pulled away from the claws of the crowd.

 

Eyes still fuzzy, he follows obediently, and it is only when they reach the corridor outside that he identifies his saviour as the one and only-- designer Kyungsoo.

 

“Sorry-- I should’ve kept you by my side, I was so stupid. I was so stupid…” The distress in Kyungsoo’s face is painfully obvious but most of his words are muffled by the mask which rests over his mouth.

 

He becomes so overwhelmed by his own stress that he misses to observe Chanyeol’s eyes at the most _crucial_ moment-- a moment, which would’ve certainly answered the question he had been asking himself for weeks.

 

Did Park Chanyeol _like_ him?

 

The answer was-- _yes_. So much so that if Kyungsoo had paid any attention to the intensity and power of Chanyeol’s gaze, he would’ve engaged how badly the musician wanted to comfort him -- hold him -- press him against the museum wall, there and then, and inform him how fucking heroic and _Captain-America-Level-Sexy_ this escape plan had been.

 

“Kyungsoo, honestly it’s fine!” Chanyeol reassures him, as he takes both of the designer’s trembling hands and squeezes them tightly, “I’m fine!”

 

Lost in the fog of his panic, the designer shakes his head, colour and warmth draining from his features--

 

“Are _you_ okay?” Chanyeol asks, visibly more concerned.

 

“No. _Please._ I want to go.”

 

Chanyeol nods calmly, fishing his phone out of his pocket, as he looks at the designer straight in the eyes and instructs with a firm,

 

“Just hold on okay? I’ll get help.”

 

His vision was rocking but Kyungsoo obeys and does not let go of the musician’s hand until they return to the fashion house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Returned to the comfort and safety of the work-room, Kyungsoo calms himself down with fresh ginger tea and a humidifier. Inside, he processes through all that had occurred— unable to believe that something as peaceful as their visit to the museum could turn out so horribly. Just his luck.

 

C’est la vie.

 

“I’m so sorry, Chanyeol. _Again_.” Kyungsoo apologises for the hundredth time, hiccupping slightly as he looks across at the musician who was on his phone. He had insisted that he stayed until he was certain that the designer was better.

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Chanyeol murmurs, offering him a smile, “Make it up to me instead.”

 

The response is _surprising_ \-- but gratifying. That is exactly what Kyungsoo would want and he nods keenly.

 

“Sure, anything.”

 

“I need to be styled for a schedule in a few days. Can you do it for me? I’ll get my stylist to coordinate with yours.”

 

“Oh,” The request is even more surprising-- but the designer, still heavy with guilt, fails to see wrong, “Okay I guess. What’s your concept? So I can prepare?”

 

Chanyeol expresses a mysterious smile as he answers.

 

“Boyfriend style.”

 

The words cause the designer to choke on his ginger tea.

 

Left to ponder the concept on his own with Chanyeol choosing to make a hasty exit, Kyungsoo internalises the query. He wonders and wonders, asking the same question: why why why _this_. The answer doesn’t come until the next morning when he stumbles upon an article on the news website about a popular singer being spotted at a museum, presumed to be on a date, once again rekindling gossip of a past romantic scandal with another art-loving musician.

 

Suddenly understanding dawns.

 

Boyfriend style; for a _girlfriend_. Perhaps his schedule was to address these rumours-- or to reassure a distraught other half. Eventually, the designer convinces himself that there were no other possibilities aside from these two.

 

Naturally, his initial response to this was to cancel on the whole thing. However, after a few beats of thought, he was reminded of how there was no _rational_ reason why he should.

 

Just like there was no rational reason for the fact that he feels like his heart’s been _stabbed_. The simple truth was that his heart was beating fine—and will continue to do so irrespective of whether he completes this task.

 

Thus Kyungsoo decides to work on his styles quickly and in a focused manner. He ignores the way his heart deflates and his stomach sinks when he thinks of the musician running home to another-- smiling his dimpled smile at another-- wearing the same, damn, ugly tracksuit ensemble for another…

 

He laughs midway through choosing a pair of trousers from the showroom rack. A deep, humorless laugh— triggered by force more than need. He pauses after it, casting a long glance over the workroom, catching sight of the boxes they had unpacked together, and this time he laughs again.

 

But his heart is heavier now. And he suddenly cares less about the rationality of it all. He was being irrational; in fact, he was being downright _delusional_ for feeling the way he does for the musician.

 

And admitting this bitter truth finally gave him some closure.

 

“I’ll give you boyfriend style,” Kyungsoo mutters beneath his breath, finally smiling genuinely, deciding then that he would dress Park Chanyeol in a look _so_ boyfriend and heart-fluttering that for a moment --

 

Just a moment, even nobodies like him, would feel like they were his.

 

 

 

Then he would call it quits and make the rational choice of never, ever, falling for one of his idols again.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

 

The look that Kyungsoo comes up with is bespoke. He pulls off pieces from the unseen autumn collection and even Chanyeol appears surprised by the commitment he shows for the project which had been last-minute. The concept was boyfriend style-- but it also felt, strangely, _Chanyeol_ style. With his tracksuit and hoodie hanging abandoned on a couch, Chanyeol emerges from the dressing room in long acid-washed jeans and a white silk shirt.

 

Kyungsoo beckons him over and it is there that the work begins. Much like a tiered cake, his look is layered with the designer choosing colours and folds that accentuate his height. A rose pink overshirt is tailored to size and concealed by a large white hoodie, one which reaches almost to his knees, and then, for warmth, an oversized bomber jacket specific from his line with five words neatly italicised on the back –

 

_all artists are born lovers --_

 

The look suits him well. Kyungsoo feels his heart fill up with emotion as Chanyeol admires himself happily on the wall-mirror, smoothing over his front with a hand,

 

“Ah, it looks good.” He grins, before turning back to the designer, “So how should I do my hair? Up? Down?”

 

“Up,” Kyungsoo answers, swallowing slightly as he demonstrates on his own, “Swept slightly, like this.”

 

His hands fall sadly to his side as Chanyeol obliges and arranges his hair with his fingers. The musician pivots around, still smiling, hunting for the designer’s opinion as he approaches him. Undoubtedly, he feels special to have such pieces on him-- but even more so with Kyungsoo’s touch and thought invested into his request.

 

“So,” he asks, noticing the way that the designer evades his gaze when he attempts to meet it, “This is EXACT x D.O’s boyfriend style, huh?”

 

“I would say it’s pretty general for the concept.” Kyungsoo mumbles, flustered as he reaches up and adjusts Chanyeol’s collar with still fingers.

 

At their proximity, he glimpses the other’s gaze and Kyungsoo _weakens_. A surge of emotions —dismay and _envy_ —fills his head and in his momentary slip, he finds himself muttering,

 

“So, your girlfriend will really like it, I hope.”

 

The words are enough to _eradicate_ the smile off the musician’s lips.

 

Chanyeol’s eyes bulge wide, clearly shocked, as he stutters a response,

 

“G--Girlfriend?” he visibly cringes, “ _What_? I don’t have… no….” He tilts his head at the designer whose own eyes widen, “Did you think I was doing--- no, no!”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m _really_ single, Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol announces, loud and clear, taking a deep breath, as he directs his gaze at the other, “I am pathetically single-- and also, _gay_. So, if anything, I would hope my boyfriend likes this. But I must repeat that I do not have one. I am actually _very_ alone... ”

 

He laughs suddenly, startling Kyungsoo who flinches, as he gestures at the outfit, angered –

 

“So what the _hell_ was this for?”

 

“I dressed up like this because I wanted _you_ to see that I can pull off boyfriend style!” Chanyeol reveals, a whine in his tone as he gestures to himself, “ _Your_ style of boyfriend. I’m not just PCY. Not just the ugly guy in the trackies either. I can be this too. The handsome type that has a cute perm… and likes... sculptures shaped like _balls_...”

 

Chanyeol pauses, seemingly more desperate as he punches the air with his words – resisting the temptation to hold the smaller man by the shoulders to ensure that he understands,

 

“Are you getting this, Kyungsoo? I’m asking you out. I’ve been trying to ask you out for a while. You’re the _cutest_ fucking person I’ve ever met and I have a big fat crush on you.”

 

At the words, Kyungsoo exhales loudly. He shakes his head in disbelief, all tools dropping from his hands,

 

“Are you serious?” he half-yells.

 

The musician laughs. “You really think I sing my debut single, acoustic version, for just anyone? Kyungsoo, I barely remembered the words. I learned them for you.”

 

 

 

The next minute is a hot blur.

 

The last thing Kyungsoo consciously remembers is taking a sharp inhale-- processing, assessing, concluding-- and then, suddenly, by some volition outside of his own realm of choice, they’re _kissing_.

 

Warm lips and even warmer hands ghost over his cheeks as his own fingers smooth over Chanyeol’s neck, the shock and electricity of it all, amplified in the way the musician _melts_ against his touch. Kyungsoo holds him through tiptoes, straining to feel _closer_ , wanting to —feel— as the musician moans sweetly into his mouth.

 

“Are... you... sure... you’re... okay?” Chanyeol asks between kisses, as his dazed eyes flutter open, lips twitching into a smile at the sight of the blushing designer across him.

 

Kyungsoo considers the question, lips tingling as he exhales deeply.

 

“Better now.”

 

“Okay.” The musician beams, “Because I’m going to kiss you again.”

 

At this, the designer thoroughly _dissolves_. He stumbles forward, dizzied, rescued and held together by strong arms and soft lips that smile warmly with the contact. It is so ridiculous and romantic that it could’ve been a scene pulled straight out of one of PCY’s music videos, Kyungsoo was sure of it—except, _he_ was the protagonist.

 

And it wasn’t from a video; his pounding heartbeat, their palmy hands, Chanyeol’s tongue— it was _all_ real.

 

Their touches grow somewhat more frantic the second time with Kyungsoo’s hands appearing to be on some private rampage to crease as much of Chanyeol’s new clothes as possible, whilst the musician revels in kissing the lips he had thought of so much the past few weeks.

 

Eventually, the bomber jacket slides off the musician’s shoulder, and in the fray, they stumble on it, falling together into a clumsy and sweaty pile.

 

Chanyeol pulls Kyungsoo over him at the last minute and his hoodie is a soft landing spot.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“ _Abs_... huh?” Thoughts still cloudy with sensations, particularly of those involving his fingers and Chanyeol’s sculpted abdomen, Kyungsoo composes himself before nodding dumbly, “I’m f—fine. You?”

 

“I’m really boiling up,” Chanyeol says with a wince, as he looks down at the designer and laughs - “Did you layer me up like this so I will die from the heat before I meet my imaginary girlfriend?”

 

“No,” Kyungsoo lies, before mumbling a quieter, “You should get changed. I will get into trouble if we damage any of these clothes.”

 

Consciously, Chanyeol smoothes over his front with a hand, chuckling at the sight of the hoodie which had been rolled up just past his chest by Kyungsoo’s _insatiable_ fingers.

 

“Okay, let’s get up before your secretary calls security on me.”

 

 

 

 

 

After Chanyeol changes, he steps out in his usual ensemble and he is met instantly by long fingers that shift his hair back to their normal, flattering but simple style.

 

“There,” Kyungsoo retorts, blushing, at the sheer warmth of Chanyeol’s loving gaze, “That’s... your boyfriend style.”

 

The tall musician chuckles, shaking his head as he plants two hands over the designer’s shoulders,

 

“No,” he corrects, “It’s actually _your_ boyfriend’s style.”

 

The words were uttered intending to trigger a reaction from the shy designer. Chanyeol succeeds, with his gaze combined with his cheesiness, causing Kyungsoo’s face to heat up to the point that he has to clamp both hands over his flushed round cheeks.

 

Chanyeol’s heart hums with affection as he pulls them both closer, keen to steal another kiss, only to be unavoidably interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. The musician stills, and then retrieves it from his pocket,

 

“Shit.” He curses as he casts Kyungsoo a sad glance, “Sorry, I need to go home and feed my dogs. Can I come back again in an hour?”

 

There was no time to reply. Kyungsoo stares at the musician, wide-eyed, before it finally registers in his mind -

 

“Sorry, did you just say _dogs_?”

 

“Yeah!” Chanyeol chirps, oblivious, as he flashes the other a smile, “I finally got them. You have no idea how much I love dogs.”

 

 

 

 

\--

 

_  
‘.... Following on from EXACT’s opening show, the autumn cycle continues with a showcase from EX’ACT x DO, the sub-label from DO KYUNGSOO. Presented in the National Design Museum, the young designer’s creative vision is spelled out in the use of flowing fabrics and crystals as the models walk across a velvet runway fit for royalty. The reclusive fashion designer treated his audience comprised of many VIP names from fashion and music, as well as his own family members, to a rare public appearance, in which he thanked them for their attendance and support._

_There was also considerable attention at the attendance of PARK CHANYEOL, the young award-winning musician, believed to be a close friend and long-rumored ‘muse’ of the young creative director....’_

 

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

 

Today was the day. Kyungsoo’s first concert; and Chanyeol’s final encore concert date for the year. He had promised he would be here for the musician and he was a quarter excited; three quarters _terrified_.

 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright here, Kyungsoo?” Peering into the crowds of - mainly young women - around them, Baekhyun clears his throat as he glances warily at his employer, “We were offered seating somewhere else. Perhaps it will be quieter?”

 

“No I’m fine,” Kyungsoo reassures him, unable to fight the smile which brightens at the sight of his boyfriend’s many fans, “I already said I’d be here. Just make sure you don’t leave my side, okay?”

 

His secretary nods and they sit together - huddled up, quiet, as to ensure that they blend in and do not attract attention. To keep calm, Kyungsoo tries his best to absorb the atmosphere Chanyeol had spoken so highly of. He could certainly sense the energy— the weight of expectation— the adoration for the musician in the air. It was absolutely electrifying.

 

And today, as a bonus, Kyungsoo will also finally see the pieces he designed in action— in concert – on Chanyeol.

 

At the thought, his eyes glistens; a burst of warmth swelling in his heart, as the light dims and the noise around him reaches deafening levels. Bright yellow glow sticks are lifted and waved in the air as the audience began to chant -

 

“ _PARK CHANYEOL, PARK CHANYEOL, PARK CHANYEOL!_ ”

 

After a burst of light and drums, Chanyeol steps out onto the long stage, smiling brightly, sending a wall of kisses to his audience. The regal jacket he wears shines with considerable effect, reflecting each glimmer of the stage lights, and Kyungsoo completely chokes up with emotion.

 

He was finally here; for _him_.

 

Without another thought, he grabs the glowsticks which Baekhyun was half-heartedly brandishing and begins to wave them in the air as he quietly joins in the excited chants, wanting nothing more but to support Chanyeol as he had done for him during the entirety of the fashion cycle.

 

“I love you Park Chanyeol!” A girl beside him screeches, as she responds ecstatically to the musician’s opening number.

 

Kyungsoo gazes at her and smiles softly behind his mask.

 

_Me too._

 

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh it’s finally here! Firstly, can I just say a thank you to the mods at EXO Limelight. Fic mods work so hard and deserve all the love for their patience and support. Secondly, thank you to the kind prompter who essentially gave me this story to write! I hope you enjoy it a lot and it accommodates what you pictured for this (lots of pining!soo, promise ^_^). Lastly, thank you to the readers. This is my first ever fanfiction written for a fest so I’m super excited to participate. 
> 
> I hope you guys continue to support EXO Limelight, its writers and artists, and all the other EXO fic-fests. Have a lovely and restful week, EXO-Ls!


End file.
